Читать книгу Seven Men Came Back - Warwick Deeping - Страница 20

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Mr. Lionel Loviebond was a little anxious. Shareholders meetings can be uncomfortable affairs when two or three disgruntled gentlemen rise to ask awkward questions, and not only ask them but insist upon their being answered. “Imperial Utilities” had disappointed the public. The company had had a bad year, and it was said that the directors had decided to pay no dividends upon either the ordinary or the deferred stock. Unpleasant rumours were in circulation, and the general meeting promising to be a sea of trouble. Loviebond was worried. Would Mr. Bernard Bastable be able to hold the meeting? Bastable was a very young chairman; he had infinite assurance, but in a crisis such as this mere bluff might not succeed. The Loviebonds were interested in “Imperial Utilities.” They had helped to place a portion of the stock; they had advised clients to buy “Imperial Utilities,” and the firm was receiving some unpleasant letters.

Loviebond rang up Challis House.

“I want Mr. Bastable.—That you, Bernard? Yes—I shall be at the meeting. Some of our clients have been playing at Auntie Fuss.—I hope you will be able to give us something to reassure them. What?—You don’t mean to say—? What,—you are going to declare a dividend?—By George, that’s splendid! But my dear chap, it was supposed to be known unofficially that you were going to pass—What?—Oh—I see—. Well—I’m damned! What a joke! Got ’em stiff, haven’t you? Great man.”

Mr. Loviebond walked across to Gresham Street with his tail very much up. He felt that he was going to enjoy that meeting. The people who had been put up to make trouble would be made to look damned foolish.—The big room was crowded, and Loviebond was unable to secure a chair, so he stood with his back to the polished panelling, his monocle in his eye. The place hummed, and Loviebond was wise as to this inducement of sound. Just like a lot of angry bees! Well, it was going to be rather funny. He stood there feeling superior and sardonic.

A little waspish person next him, one of those hairy, be-pince-nezed fellows with ragged eyebrows, held a paper of notes and a pencil like a monkey holding a nut. One of the curmudgeons obviously! Loviebond tried to read the little man’s notes, and he became suddenly suspicious and glanced up irritably.

Loviebond smiled at him.

“Going to be—rather lively—I think.”

The little man snarled—“I should say so—Interested?”

“Slightly.”

“We’ve got some voting strength here. We mean to push for a poll if necessary.”

Loviebond removed his monocle and polished it.

“That may not be necessary.”

It was not. When those august citizens took their places on the platform Loviebond saw that Mr. Bastable was wearing a white carnation. There was no welcoming applause. The meeting was grim and expectant, rather like a disillusioned dog chained up in an area.

The chairman’s speech!

“Gentlemen—my task to-day is both pleasant—and a little difficult——”

The voice of an interrupter rose from the centre of the room.

“I should like to say that we want facts—not eye-wash.”

The chairman smiled.

“Will the gentleman be patient and wait for the facts.”

Loviebond stood and watched Mr. Bernard Bastable. By George, Bernard was exquisite; he had the right manner, debonair, shrewd, dignified. A humorous and almost paternal suavity! Clever devil! Mr. Bastable began by being calmly gloomy. He produced to the meeting all the adverse circumstances that had balked the activities of “Imperial Utilities.” Yes, flotation costs had been heavy. They had had to write off——

The meeting murmured. It shuffled. The little hairy man next to Loviebond fluttered his notes. He was eager to yap.

The chairman raised a glass of water from the table, sipped it leisurely, put it down again.

“Gentlemen—that is the worst.”

He smiled like a beneficent sallow god.

“Now, as to the future. I am glad to be able to tell the meeting that our company has secured certain contracts. Yes, signed contracts.—I will give you a few of the details. They have not yet—appeared.—May I say—that our directors have wished to put before you—sincerely and honestly—the position as it was. We did not wish to humbug our shareholders. But—now—gentlemen——”

There were other murmurings, smiles, an expectant restlessness. The little hairy person stood with raised eyebrows.

Bastable continued. He was like a pontifical godfather dropping plums out of a bag: ripe, rotund, luscious plums.

He grew expansive.

“Well, gentlemen, we were prepared for a little criticism to-day. In view of our prospects we propose to pay a dividend of 5 per cent. on the ordinary shares, and 2 per cent. on the deferred shares. The directors feel that they are justified by the prospects of the company. And now, with these considerable contracts before you, we are prepared to listen to any criticism——”

There was none. The disillusioned dog was off his chain and out of the area, and ready to paw and to lick. There was a congratulatory hum, a satisfied, sibilant murmur. The little hairy man was twitching his eyebrows and looking cross and perplexed.

Loviebond heard him say—“There’s a ramp somewhere.” And Loviebond, flicking a little dust from a lapel of his morning coat, smiled at the figure of Bernard Bastable, and slipped away to dictate mellifluous letters to sundry discontented clients.